Page 35 of The Fight For Survival

When she died, it got so much worse.

I was eight years old when my childhood really ended.

It was a Friday night, and I was sitting in the car with my Dad driving somewhere. It had been two days since my Mom's funeral. I didn't know where we were going and was too scared to ask. Anything I said to Dad always got me into trouble, so I learned to be quiet until I was spoken to. The car stopped outside a large white house, and four men came running out laughing and cheering. "Richard, you came! We've got a beer waiting for you." My Dad laughed and got out of the car. I had never heard him laugh before. It was strange. He truly seemed human in that small moment, and I got my hopes up that things might be different now. Then he turned towards me, his face blank of emotion, no evidence of the laughing man I had just witnessed, and my hopes were shattered.

"Come," was all he said to me. Like I was an animal that wasn't worth wasting his voice on. He turned away and walked up the pathway to the house those men came out of.

I got out of the car and followed him, wondering where we were and who these people were.

"So this must be the boy. What'd you call him? Kane? Weird name, man," one of the men laughs. They look around the same age as my Father making them in their early thirties. They were all dressed in suits with short, tidy hair of various shades of blondes and browns.

"His whore mother named him. I didn't get a say, though I did get a fine fucking blow job to persuade me," my Father laughs, clapping hands with the men. What is this? My Mother just died, and he is calling her names? "You think your son takes after his mother?" the light blonde-haired man asked, staring intensely at me.

My Father looked down at me and what I saw on his face frightened me.

"Let's find out. Kane, come and say hello to a friend of mine. His name is Jason." With a quiver in my voice, I politely said hello to him, and they all laughed at me. Looking down at my feet, I thought, why do they keep laughing? When I looked at Jason again, he was undoing his suit jacket and tie.

"Richard, did you not prepare this boy at all?" Walking over to me, he said, "you see, here in this house, we have a special way of saying hello." He took a seat in a black leather armchair. The other men were sitting on a leather couch to match the armchair and were all drinking beer. "Come here, Kane, and say hello to me properly." He said darkly as he undid his trouser belt.

You can read between the lines. You don't need me to go into detail about what happened that night and every Friday night after that.

I jump out of the kitchen chair with such force it hits the floor. Ignoring it, I run over to the sink in time to vomit. The sounds I make are between a choke and a sob as tears run down my face. I could never have predicted this. Gripping the kitchen sink in an attempt to keep me upright, I close my eyes, shaking my head to erase the vision of Kane's young image going through god only knows what by the hands of those sick twisted monsters. Wanting to get the rest of the letter over, I go back, pick the chair up and finish.

I can imagine all of the things going through your head right now, but please don't pity me. That's not what I need. What I need is your understanding. I can't do it anymore, Cade. I think if I stay here, I might end up like my Mom, whether by my hand or theirs. I don't know, and I don't want to find out.

This decision wasn't taken lightly. I have gone over all the possible ways to remain in your life, but I don't see a solution, and I don't think you would want me there after you found out the truth.

I want to thank you for the piece of happiness you gave me, Cade. You showed me that there is a reason to live. You and Mia are the light to my darkness, and I will never forget you.

I'm sorry.

Forever yours,

Kane

Scrubbing the sadness from my eyes, I go into my bedroom with determination. I spot Mia's letter on her nightstand and grab it. She doesn't need to read this. She has suffered enough grief, and I'm not entirely sure she will be able to handle this. Not so close to Chase's birthday. I pocket the letter and pack a bag. Going back into the kitchen, I gather my letter and shove it into my bag. Grabbing my keys, I leave the house.

I need to see Kane.

Kane

Someonepoundingonmyfront door at 5 in the morning is a good way of getting themselves beaten. Opening the door, I spit, "Fuc- Cade?" I stand at the door, paralyzed by the devastation on his face.He's read it.In a sheer panic, I go to slam the door in his face, but he stops it with a hand. "No," he whispers, shaking his head. "No more hiding from me," he pushes his way into my home, and I stand there, trembling, not wanting to meet his eyes.

I'm engulfed in a firm embrace before I can even formulate a plan to get him to leave. I stiffen up at first, but as I feel the shake in Cade's body, my throat constricts, and tears pave the way down my cheeks before I can stop them. I'll give myself this moment. To grieve the loss of my childhood, the loss of Cade and Mia. And the loss of the life that could have been. I clutch him, hanging on like he's my anchor, holding me to this world when I feel the darkness trying to pull me in. He won't let it.

Pulling away, I turn my back on him. Wiping at my eyes before I speak. "Why are you here, Cade?"

"I had to see you. Kane, I am so sorry," he chokes out.

I spin on him, a fierce scowl taking over my face. "I don't need your fucking pity."

Holding out his hands in a peace gesture, "no, it's not pity. I'm sorry that I didn't see the signs. If I did, I coul-"

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this, Cade. We were kids. How could you know something like that was happening?"

"You're right. We were kids. So why am I not allowed to blame myself for not noticing the signs? But you are allowed to hate yourself for what happened to you?"

Closing my eyes, I shake my head, walking away from him. "Kane, you need to talk about this," He urges, following me into the kitchen.